


He Wasn’t Afraid

by Vinsachi



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinsachi/pseuds/Vinsachi
Summary: Just another vision of how it might have happened.





	He Wasn’t Afraid

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Он не боялся](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/451469) by torri-jirou. 



He said, ‘I’m going to burn in Hell anyway.’

Just following those sneering words, ‘Why don’t you Billy ever wench? Ain’t the greedy one, so what is it?’ Billy told then ‘that it was him’ without a hitch. He could share everything with the Sharpshooter. Knew that he wouldn’t make that wry, disgusted face – he wasn’t that sort of a man. However, he didn’t expect to see that ravening pry. And then Robicheaux flung off those words, ‘I’m going to burn in Hell anyway’, and pulled the shirt down from his shoulder. Let the hell burn all over but the fire was true and real.

He would never kiss, though, and kept saying, ‘Kisses are for wives’. But all the rest wasn’t an issue. He disliked when someone was standing behind as well. Disliked those scumbags who were shooting off their mouths when nobody asked them to. That bastard who suggested them to amuse themselves with something they were really into just a couple of hours ago, caught the Sharpshooter’s bullet earlier than he managed to finish the phrase. And then, Robicheaux had a skinful and put that out of his head. It was Billy who tried to make Robicheaux drunk so heavily that he would crash out right at the table, to wake up in the outskirts, by the burned out bonfire, with a saddle under his head and a fully loaded gun in a holster.  
All he had to do further is to shake out and to fuck out those echoes of nightmare from him until the memories of that murdered man turned into a night fantasy, and the shot rabbit become reality.

No, the Sharpshooter wasn’t afraid of hell, despite all that talk of ghosts and death behind his back. He kept talking about it with abandon, vividly, relishing the details: on all these circles, burning blackthorns, falls of flames, harpies, hyenas, crocodiles and other beasts. Kept telling all that as if he already had a ticket in his pocket, and the exciting journey was in sight. For these three years, Billy learned his stories even better than scars on his body. A kind of amusing place was invented by white men. One hell of a book their dear Bible is.

Так что да, the Sharpshooter wasn’t afraid of anyone. Everyone was afraid of him. Even not knowing his name - faces would turn pale, shoulders would hunch just after meeting his eyes. He was afraid of nothing… except his own fears. And Billy was afraid that one day, these fears would win over him, and then there nothing would be left of the Sharpshooter, let him even keep breathing. But until he could drive these fears away – with drinking, fucking, good fight, a new place – he kept riding hard. That’s why he stayed when Robicheaux left. To give him an opportunity to come back. And if he won’t, that would be his end. And he would better drop dead than witness this.

His death wasn’t so terrible – the Sharpshooter died before his body hit the ground. Billy loaded his gun quickly: he’ll need something to fire back of those dogs and harpies. Just in the nick of time: something gurgled in his throat, the fingers grew numb, and pain was piercing his body at every breath. No big thing, he will make it. The only thing that matters now is to catch the Sharpshooter somewhere in this damned hell.


End file.
